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“That’s absurd,” she said again. “Name one time I’ve done that.”

I did better: I named all of them. I could practically hear her rolling her eyes through the phone, but, to give her the tiniest amount of credit, she didn’t interrupt me until I paused to take a breath. “I’m not trying to make the Hanukkah festival less…Hanukkah,” she said. Less Jewish, is what I heard. “I just want to make sure it’s as appealing as possible to the largest number of people.”

Less Hanukkah. Less Jewish. It always drove me a little crazy that, in media designed to portray Jews—especially Jewish women—as beautiful or appealing, it always seems like non-Jews are cast to represent us. But when the character is there for comic relief or to embody the more unpleasant Jewish stereotypes? Well. Then we get cast. Because it’s all about making sure each piece of media is “as appealing as possible to the largest number of people.” Meaning, a real-life Jewish woman wouldn’t be appealing enough to be the main character of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel or the movie about Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s life, even though she, in real life, was as Jewish as we come.

So my hackles raised as I said, “I don’t think that maximizing the Hanukkah means that it won’t appeal to people. Maggie, you know Maggie, who took over at my café this week while I’m scouting here in New York, she’s not Jewish, but she was excited about the idea of new Hanukkah coffee specials. I think that people are eager to try new things, not just rehash the same old. If they want to go to a Christmas festival, there are plenty of Christmas festivals in the area for them to check out. They’re coming to a Hanukkah festival because they want Hanukkah.”

Lorna was silent on the other end. My hopes rose a bit, thinking maybe I’d finally gotten through to her, only to hear her bark, “No, the T-shirts go over there!”

Hope faded. She hadn’t even been listening. I’d been baring my guts and she hadn’t even been listening. “Hello?”

“Oh, Abby, are you still there?” She sounded disinterested. “I’m sorry, I’m in the middle of a store redesign. Well, a mini redesign. I’m trying to move all the most in-demand products to the back so that people are forced to go past everything else to find them. You know how it is.”

I knew how it was to want to scream. She continued, “Anyway, I have to go. Can we pick this up later? Great. Bye.” She hung up before I could say anything back.

I let out a pterodactyl screech and threw my phone at the wall.

No, I didn’t. But I wanted to.

Just then, a knock came at the door. Cue a frantic moment where I thought maybe my mind had betrayed me and I had indeed gone nuclear on my phone, only to have Seth poke his head in with a politely quizzical expression. “Hey, we have to leave soon if we’re going to make it on time,” he said. “My mom made some sandwiches for us to eat quickly before we leave. You ready?”

I could barely bring myself to look at him. I turned, focusing on that trusty brick wall. “Yeah.”

After lunch and a largely silent subway ride, we were climbing out at Lincoln Center to meet up with the friend group. The Lincoln Center Christmas tree rose up huge and imposing over the sparkling fountain, glittering white all over. I could only imagine how it would look at night, showcased against the lit-up arches of the massive building, maybe twinkling in tune with the music from inside.

Somehow the friend group had swelled even more since visiting Kylie’s booth at the holiday festival, maybe additional people having come home for the holidays. I didn’t even bother introducing myself this time. What did it matter, when I’d definitely never be seeing any of them again? But it wasn’t like I wanted to stick close to Seth’s side right now, either.

I greeted Dan and Kylie, then Freya. She gave me what seemed to be a genuinely happy smile.

As I smiled back at her, Dan trumpeted for everyone to be quiet. “Okay, everybody pair up and we’ll hand out the lists!” he shouted. “The first pair to upload all your pics to the shared album wins. I have a great prize for the winners, believe me.”

I considered asking Freya or Kylie or literally anyone else to pair up with me, but I knew that would be considered weird—why would I be pairing up with someone other than my boyfriend? Seth appeared just as enthusiastic to be paired with me, or so attested the grim line of his mouth. It seemed I’d finally done it: brought some rain clouds to that sunny attitude.

Somehow it didn’t make me feel good.

It took me a second to hear Dan again over the sound of the crowd. “Okay, it looks like we have too many people for it to be pairs, actually,” he said. “Let’s try groups of three.”

Maybe Seth and I would be forced to split up and be thirds for two other pairs. If we could only stall long enough where—

“Hey, you guys need a third?” Kylie asked, appearing between me and Seth. Damn it.

Without context or on a dating app, this would be a very different conversation. “Sure,” Seth said before I could respond. “Why not?”

With everybody paired—well, tripled—up, Dan began his countdown up front. “Everything on this list can be found within walking distance, between here and Union Square. That’s where we’ll meet when we’re done,” he called. “Okay, three, two, one, here we go!”

I kind of expected everybody to start running for it, but that wouldn’t have made any sense, since we didn’t know what we were running for. Also, it might have started a mass panic. Kylie and I huddled around Seth’s phone, where he’d pulled up the list. It had ten items, all festive. “A skeleton dressed up like Santa, a giant gingerbread man,” I read. “Oh, ‘something Hanukkah.’ Way to be inclusive, Dan.”

Seth rolled his eyes. “Any ideas on where we should start?”

“Well, the guy dressed as a nutcracker is definitely going to be in Times Square, right?” Kylie asked. I had no idea. Seth shrugged. “Where else do people dress up in costumes? The Broadway snow globes will be there, too. I’ve seen them before. And the ice-skating rink is in Bryant Park. The holiday window display is around Saks and Macy’s. So we have a general route kind of sketched out. Hopefully, the other stuff will be on the way. Like, I have no idea where we’re going to find the holiday train.”

I was happy enough to let them take control and navigate, so I just nodded along. And Seth clearly didn’t feel like exercising his new conflict muscles without a real reason. So we let Kylie lead us east toward the big department stores, where there would surely be a “window display featuring actual diamond snowflakes.”

With Kylie up ahead, Seth drew close to me. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, because that’s what I always said when asked the question, fine or not. My mouth opened, ready to ask him the same question, but it closed before I could push the words out. I kind of didn’t want to know the answer.

Instead, I said, “Things aren’t going to be weird or anything now, right?”